Pure Cane, My Ass

As Jones Soda comes in many flavours
So do you. Like strawberry and lime
Or turkey, which one seasonally endures
Or cream soda, drunk just to pass the time.
You once were rare. I plodded far and wide
To find your essence, flavourful and pure.
And now in any Wal-Mart I can find
Your garish rainbow smile, packaged to lure.
I drink you all the same. My cravings prove
That I, despite your wanton trifling
Have very little room to disapprove
Of compulsive love, cruel, stifling.
Your redolence is often overmuch
Yet I am left addicted to your touch.